


Darkroom

by Tantaylor



Category: Duran Duran
Genre: Anal Sex, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-29
Updated: 2019-08-29
Packaged: 2020-09-29 19:01:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20440952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tantaylor/pseuds/Tantaylor
Summary: Porn without plot





	Darkroom

**Author's Note:**

> Paper gods era
> 
> Well, I have a thing for club sex lately.
> 
> English is not my mother tongue  
no beta  
blah blah....

I don't visit these places very often. I still hope that one day I will be brave enough to go another way than this one.  
But sometimes I just can't help it.  
We have been on tour for months and slowly the stress is getting unbearable. I am not 20 any more.  
I have needs, and I can't suppress them anymore. I need sex, sex calms me down and sorts me out.  
At the moment, however, I am rather nervous. Someday someone will betray me, my little secret will come out.  
Usually people are discreet in such places, after all we are in the same boat here. But sex sells, and I guess you¨ll be well paid for the information that Nick Rhodes is a rare but regular visitor in gay bars, in gay bars with darkrooms.  
This morning I didn^t even know where I am, I felt exhausted and powerless.   
And then there^s this couple in the hotel lobby, kissing and holding hands. A gay couple, happily in love, and I asked myself again why coming out would be such a great deal. Half the world thinks I^m gay anyway.   
When it comes to pure carnal needs, to wild, rough dirty sex, it^s always been men.  
Anyway. It^s been months since I last hit a darkroom for 15 minutes of pleasure and after I remembered the town I^m in I went online to check for such places. Gay bars with darkrooms.  
I would like to find someone to share more than 15 minutes of sex with, but how^s that gonna happen if no one knows I^m gay?  
After the tour, Nick! After the tour you will drop the bomb, Nicholas, I keep on telling myself. Well, I told it to myself for about how long exactly? 30 years ?  
Frustrated, i order another white wine.   
Not the best one I ever had, but decent quality, better than expected.   
I can't do it without alcohol. It's a shame, I know.  
If Nigel knew that, he would give me a good head wash. But he doesn't know. Nobody knows.  
It has never been hard for me to find someone, but tonight luck doesn't seem to be on my side.  
I haven't seen anybody I even begin to like.  
Too many faggots, too feminine.  
Or these horrible leather guys with moustaches. No thanks.  
They only want to top anyway, and I'm not a bottom.  
Isn't there a normal, somewhat attractive man here? Someone who doesn't wear more make up than me or looks like a Freddie Mercury caricature?   
Perhaps I should go back to the hotel and wank to some badly made gay porn.  
I'll drink my wine glass in one go and I want to pay and leave, that's when I notice.  
This tingling sensation in the back of your neck that makes your hair stand on end.   
Somebody^s watching me.  
I just know it.  
When someone looks at you so intensively in such a place that you can feel the gaze physically, that can only mean one thing. Someone's searching for an adventure and thinks he found what he's looking for.  
I feel my pulse fasten and the adrenaline rushing through my veins. The thrill of hunting and being hunted. So instead of leaving, I order another wine, delay the moment I turn around to find out who is looking at me.  
It's probably just a Freddie clone or a drag queen anyway, but I enjoy this moment of tension. Maybe that's all I get today.  
I'm turning around. Slowly, as if by chance. I am Nick Rhodes. I am the controller. I^m cool as a cucumber.  
What !  
The !  
Hell !  
What the fuck is this?   
Is somebody kidding me?  
That can't be. I am not that drunk. That is not him. That is just someone who looks like him. Incredibly similar.  
He leans against the wall opposite me, right next to the stairs to the darkroom, an amused little smile on his face.  
I stare at him, he stares back.  
Shit.  
Fucking shit.  
That's not a doppelganger. That's him.   
Did he follow me?  
But why would he do that?  
I can see the band-aids on his fingers. Damn, I put it on them last night!   
"Maybe I should wear gloves again" he had grinned. "Like then, remember?"  
"Hold still, Roger! Stop fidgeting. These stupid things stick everywhere, except where they're supposed to.“  
„Good thing you're a keyboarder, Nick, and not a nurse!“  
„So funny! Thank goodness you^re a drummer and no comedian!“  
What the fuck is he doing here? I don^t get it.  
He just doesn't belong here!   
Hurriedly I take a sip of wine and close my eyes for a moment.  
When I open them, he is still standing there, smiling and looking at me. I can't look away, I can't move, I'm absolutely stunned.  
He doesn't move either. We just look at each other.  
I drink my wine, he drinks his beer.  
Then he puts his glass down and I almost have a heart attack when he points his chin towards the stairs. Towards the darkroom.  
No, has he? That's a bad joke!  
I certainly dream it, it can't be real!   
Exactly, that is not real. I just have to ignore it, to ignore him. He is not really here. It^s the stress of touring or something. Does stress lead to hallucinations? I don't know, I'm a keyboard player and not a nurse.  
Goodness, I need another wine!   
Maybe this hallucination will go away when I just turn back to the bar. I'll drink another wine and then go to sleep. Apparently I need it more than sex.  
Seconds later, I almost spilled my new full glass.  
I feel a warm hand on my shoulder, hot breath on my skin.   
Someone takes the glass out of my hand and sets it on the counter.  
Someone. He. Roger.  
The band-aid –covered fingers stroke my cheek ever so gently .

He doesn't talk, not a word, just takes me by the hand and goes down these stairs with me.  
I don't fight back.  
It's a dream. it's not really happening. Around us there is moaning and panting, also the other noises leave no doubt about what happens down here.  
Roger pulls me purposefully into a small, lockable room.  
He knows his way around here, I think. Holy shit, he's been here before!  
No. Everything is fine. It's just a dream.  
Roger Taylor doesn't go into darkrooms. Roger Taylor has no sex with men.   
But he knows pretty much what he's doing. It's not really dark, I can see him exactly, can see what he's doing.   
Gently he pushes me on a narrow couch, the only piece of furniture in this room.

Then he kneels down before me to take my shoes off. I can barely breathe.   
This is not real. Not. Real. No!  
Coming up again to open my pants, his eyes dart into mine and that little , knowing smile appears. He knows me. He knows me too well.  
I^m naked only minutes later. Rough, band aid-plastered hands run down my sides. That feels so fucking real, especially because of the band-aid. Too real for a dream!  
„Roger…“   
„Sssssh. It^s ok, Nick. We^ll talk later. Now I wanna feel you.“  
His voice doesn't sound like his voice. It sounds hoarse and lecherous, and it touches something in me. It's like someone turned a switch.  
I reach for the back of his neck and kiss him fiercely, almost brutal.  
I^m the controller! I^ll take the lead.  
He's right. Don't talk. Don't think.   
It tastes wonderful. . Herb and sweet. He tastes like he smells, and it feels strangely familiar.   
The very little part of my brain that^s still working properly yells at me that it's Roger I'm kissing here, Roger whose hands grab my hips and pull me to him, Roger^s hard cock which is throbbing against mine, the cock that has achieved great fame since a legendary press conference.  
Well, it feels like Simon^s been right, but I have to check, of course. Roger has other plans, though. Again he kneels before me, this time to make my cock disappear deep into his mouth.  
It's certainly not the first time he's done this, and it suddenly makes me incredibly angry.  
I push so hard into his willing mouth that he has to choke. Nevertheless he does not stop. 

Why did he never say anything? Why did he never let me feel that he likes men?   
I pull him up, tear his jeans over his hips and push him against the couch.  
That knowing grin again.   
„Yes!“ he hisses.  
Yes. So simple.  
I want him to stop grinning. I want him to scream with pleasure, that he begs me to fuck him hard. I think I want to hurt him.   
Because he never said anything. Because he is here. Because he feels so damn good.  
„Turn!“ I growl, what he does without any hesitation, shamelessly presenting his adorable ass.  
That little slut! He come here to be fucked! He, of all people!   
He would've let some stranger fuck him!  
That I also came here to fuck some stranger does not matter now. He lied to me, for years he lied to me, the shy, reserved Roger! Shy ! Reserved ! What a joke !   
Now he reaches back, pulls his ass cheeks apart and the sight of his rosy entrance makes me groan. I MUST be dreaming, because it couldn't be Roger, that greedy little bitch in front of me. I bend down to lick this twitching pucker and again it feels too real for a dream. Soft and yielding, he welcomes my tongue. Goodness. He^s so willing.   
That son of a bitch! How many guys has he had it with? How many have fucked this delicious hole already ? And why the hell does this thought make me so incredibly angry? I have not lived like a monk either.  
His pants are still hanging around his knees and I don't intend to change that. He shouldn't be comfortable! I want to fuck him fast and hard, just like you do it in darkrooms.   
We could have had it nice in a cozy hotel bed, if only he had said something!  
Ruthlessly I push two fingers into his spit-moist entrance and he moans and presses against them. I wanted him to feel uncomfortable, but apparently he likes it. Who would have thought that?  
No one has ever given himself to me like this before. He literally opens up for me.  
„Please!“ he moans and that^s all I need.  
He^s tight and hot, almost unbearably hot. It feels like my cock dives in liquid fire.  
Roger's screaming drowned out everything down here, and that makes me unbelievably horny. He lets go so completely, he is so beautiful and he belongs only to me right now. No matter with how many he had sex, now he is mine.  
I bite him in the throat as I come, marking him and i guess it^s that delicious pain what makes hin come, too. The hot cum running over my fingers feels fantastic.  
Panting we hold on until I slip out of him. He turns around and carefully pulls the filled condom off me.  
We still don't talk. We don't talk when we go back to the bar hand in hand and have a drink, we don't talk when we get into a taxi in front of the club and drive back to our hotel.  
Only when Roger snuggles up to me under the blanket, naked and warm, does he say laughing softly:  
"Next time we won't drive halfway through town, will we? You could have just knocked on my door!"


End file.
